


Who Dares To Love Forever?

by all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)



Series: Forever [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: "High Fidelity", "The Breakfast Club", Anally Retentive Sam Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Canon Universe, Castiel Has Feelings for Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Closeted Dean Winchester, Cute Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has Feelings For Castiel, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Loves Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester's Freckles, Dean Winchester's Porn Obsession, Dean Winchester's Terrible Life, Dean loves Sam like he want to make the sun rise just for him, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Funny Dean Winchester, Give Dean a minute, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Sam Winchester, I know he's had eleven years but hey give him a minute, Inspired by Music, Letters, M/M, Matchmaking, Matchmaking Sam Winchester, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Movie Reference, Mutual Pining, Obsessive Sam Winchester, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, POV Multiple, POV Sam Winchester, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Pining, Poor Dean Winchester, Poor Sam Winchester, Queen (Band) References, Rome wasn't built in a day, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sam Winchester is a Saint, Sam Winchester is a genius, Sam likes the number three, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Song Lyrics, and Sam loves Dean like he wants to break the sun so Dean doesn't have to anymore, like a lot, mixtapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-20 15:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfSoy/pseuds/all-or-nothing-baby
Summary: There's just this... thing between them, you know?Breath softly huffs from Sam's smile-flared nostrils.They're in love. Simple as that.- who dares to love forever?when love must die -The lyrics echo back to Sam and he suddenly gets it, like the bullet he once took to his gut in a wood cabin in Wallowa-Whitman National Forest.Dean is scared that if he allows himself to be happy, he'll lose Cas.And sure, okay, so then there's the whole Dean being so far in the closet he's in freaking Narnia issue which Sam has always solely attributed to Dean's decision to hold back… but Sam knows his brother. And therefore now knows inherently that it must be this--Dean's abject fear of losing Cas altogether--that's really holding him back.ORThe one where Sam is done with a capital D.CURRENTLY ON HIATUS





	Who Dares To Love Forever?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharkfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/gifts), [SaltyWords (agent4hire22)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/gifts).

> Although this can be read as a story in its own right, you can also choose to read parts i and ii of this series first if you'd like, as this part carries on (sort of, in a very non-linear kinda way) from where they leave off. 
> 
> Lordy, this one took me so much longer than the previous two! Partly because I wrote it/scrapped it and started all over again at least three times... partly because of a touch of near fatal blockitis... but mostly because I've had proverbial shit-for-brains for the last few weeks and haven't known my arse from my elbow, let alone my imagery from my POVs.
> 
> This part of the series has four chapters (posted as a single work): one lengthy and three teeny. So, as well as a major dose of pining (still) going on in this canon divergent universe, there is also a hefty shot of Saint Sammy working some (insightful) miracles, through The Power of Doneness... plus a little ACTUAL DECISIVE DEANO ACTION. He's getting there, guys! He's only had eleven years, so give him a minute, yeah?
> 
> Dedicated to Ju, for your simple yet awesome encouragement and support in the shape of "write what you fucking wanna write"--or something possibly a little more eloquent. But, then again, knowing our conversations, possibly not xD 
> 
> And to Jackie, for showing me (in your epic fic After Dark--which you know I will never, EVER shut up about, right?) that SAM CAN AND SHOULD GET MORE VIRTUAL PAGE-TIME IN DESTIEL FICTION. Jackie, dude, I know I won't ever be able to surpass your completely brilliant (and my favourite) depiction of Sam Fucking Winchester... but thank you for making me want to try.

**Chapter** **One: Sam**

_ It's Dean's fault. _

He'd been listening to them while messing around under the Impala hood--obviously a half-ruse to get out of research on the impending possible cursed object case. Not that Sam had called him out on it, course. He'd rather not have to deal with a huffing and puffing forty-year-old child while trying to work, truth be told. Besides, extra checks on a half-century-old car before a four-hour road trip? Never exactly a bad idea.

Sam couldn't help but hum the track after that--the one Dean had been wailing along to down in the garage. Needed to go download it to his laptop, saving it in the **|Dean's Music [That Might Actually Be OK]| **file. Then he had to listen to the track immediately, save it from becoming an earworm--of the musical kind, that is, not that horrendous thing-that-killed-poor-Rufus kind. After it ended, he clicked on the first song and began to listen from the start.

Turns out Sam really likes the first handful of tracks on Queen's eighties album _ "A Kind Of Magic"_.

Methodically setting out everything he might need to make a start at his desk, Sam aligns his things in small triads. He then places his glass of water atop of this month’s copy of _ Men’s Health _ and blinks at his _BLADERUNNER _ desktop wallpaper, chewing at the corner of his mouth and stewing a little over the sentiment of the current track that's playing, one called, _ "One Year Of Love"_. Although a completely gorgeous song, the lyrics are a little too close to the bone for Sam's liking. Especially today. Not that it's the anniversary or anything. It's not her birthday either, nothing like that. There are just some days where she plays on repeat in his mind like an old home video recording stuck on a loop.

_ God, I miss her. _

After booting up Google and opening the files he’s already saved, the song ends with Sam endeavouring _ not _ to permanently link the soft melody of the song and its bittersweet words to _ Eileen _... but fearing he may lose that particular battle before even drawing his sword.

After a couple more tracks, Sam discovers the latter part of the album _ does _ actually contain at least one really beautiful song; track six, _ "Who Wants To Live Forever". _

The lyrics actually stop him in his evening's research-bound tracks.

*****

** _There's no time for us_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_There's no place for us_**

** _What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?_ **

** _*_ ** ****

****  
** _Who wants to live forever?_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_Who wants to live forever?_**

** _*_ ** ****

****  
** _There's no chance for us_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_It's all decided for us_**

** _This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us_ **

** _*_ ** ****

****  
** _Who wants to live forever?_ ** ****  
****  
** _Who wants to live forever?_ ** ****  
****  
** _Who dares to love forever?_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_When love must die_**

** _*_ ** ****

****  
** _But touch my tears with your lips_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_Touch my world with your fingertips_**

** _And we can have forever_ ** ****  
****  
** _And we can love forever_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_Forever is our today_**

** _*_ ** ****

****  
** _Who wants to live forever?_ ** ****  
****  
** _Who wants to live forever?_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_Forever is our today_**

** _*_ ** ****

** _  
_ ** ** _Who waits forever anyway?_ **

** _*_ **

After listening to what he realises is a pretty familiar-sounding tune--then clicking **⟳ [replay] **on his laptop's music player for two more go-arounds--Sam's heart is kind of breaking all over again. 

_ Also Dean's fault. _

Because this time, the heartbreak is at his idiot brother's behest.

_They don't have forever._

Sam cannot stop thinking about Dean and Cas lately. Not only because their bickering old-married-couple routine is really starting to grate on his pretty damn tolerant last nerve, but also because they've all but run out of silent excuses. They're _so _ obvious, it eats at Sam every day that they're not together. It really is the easiest thing in the world to see how _ right _ they are for each other...

_ Dean helps Cas be the man that the angel wants to be; Cas calls Dean on his bullshit and forces him to see the good in himself. And they're always--_and will always be_\--there for each other. _

Of course, it's not just Sam who knows they belong together. Eileen saw it. Bobby knew. Jody could see it early on, and her girls figured it out pretty much straight away. Donna too. Sam reckons Benny _ had _ to have known. And Charlie? Man, she knew within seconds of talking to Dean about Cas, before she'd ever even met the seraph. Hell, even angels, demons and all other overly-talkative non-human dicks can see it.

_ There's just this... _ thing _ between them, you know? _

Breath softly huffs from Sam's smile-flared nostrils.

_ They're in love. Simple as that. _

And if anyone knows what love feels like, it's Sam. He'd felt love--_really felt it_\--with Jess, Amelia… and Eileen; even though he was too acutely frightened of losing her, like he had the others, to actually do anything solid about it.

_Eileen and I had talked about being hunters and the dangers of... of being with someone. We'd both agreed it would be too big a price to pay... and (I'm pretty sure) we both knew how the other felt, too. But neither of us wanted to make the first move--both too terrified of losing the other. _

_ I was going to 'fess up and tell her though, I really was. I couldn't have gone much longer without her being more permanent in my life. I wanted to be with her, so badly. I just--I just needed a little more time._

Sam looks up at the ceiling, wanting solace it can't give.

** _Who dares to love forever?_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_When love must die_**

The lyrics echo back to Sam and he suddenly _ gets it, _ like the bullet he once took to his gut in a wood cabin in Wallowa-Whitman National Forest.

_ Dean is scared that if he allows himself to be happy, he'll lose Cas. _

And sure, okay, so then there's the whole _Dean being_ _so far_ _in the closet_ _he's in freaking Narnia issue _which Sam has always solely attributed to Dean's decision to hold back… but Sam _knows_ his brother. And therefore now knows inherently that it _must_ be this--Dean's abject fear of losing Cas altogether--that's _really_ holding him back.

_ Huh. Maybe Dean and I are not so different after all. _

A flashing porn pop-up suddenly filling Sam's screen--which must have come from Dean sneakily using his laptop--jolts him from his ruminations and he immediately rescinds that last thought.

Scanning _Booking.com_ for motel prices, Sam skips the next album track, and the next one, choosing to let the last song play out. Checking out the availability of kitchenette rooms at the seemingly affordable Peak Lodge Inn in Tonkawa, Oklahoma, he considers his brother's none existent romantic life. And yes, okay, so Sam is obviously painfully aware of the fact that his own love-life is in a disturbingly similar sorry-state. But Dean's? _Infinitely_ more lacking.

Sam's known about Dean's bisexuality for…_ever?_ At least since he'd had enough social maturity to pick up on cues like body language. Him and Dean spent so much time together as both kids _and_ adults (definitely more than most siblings) that it was pretty early on when Sam learned his brother's inherent mannerisms, nuances and flirtatious behaviours--and how they are a constant around both women and men, even though Dean tries to hide it--as if Dean's body has it's very own colloquial dialect.

But Sam has never once seen Dean with a guy.

Sam _has_ hinted about his knowledge of Dean's attraction to both men and women, on so many occasions. So many times he's talked to Dean about his overcompensating, acting overtly masculine and butch to the point of overkill.

_ The amount of times motel staff and even a few vics. on cases have assumed me and Dean are gay is beyond a joke... Then there were all the "strictly into dick now" jokes I made, back when the Leviathan were still running around feeding off the locals--"_strictly" _ being the operative word…_

_ Dean's just _ gotta _ know I know. _

He's never once let on if he does though. Has never even looked like he was considering it either. _ Nothing_. So, Sam's never pushed. Always figured it was Dean's decision whether or not to start up a dialogue--which Sam obviously realises is as likely as Lucifer deciding to go to church on Sundays.

But now? At the pitch this thing with Cas has reached--and after almost_ ten years _ of pining and lingering looks and almost touches?

_ Nuh-uh, no more. I am so fucking done. _

Sam sips at his water and shuts down the tabs he doesn't need open anymore. Grabbing his notebook, he compiles a list of what they already know about the case and his (admittedly sparse) new findings--but diverts half his brain-power to _ matchmaking. _

_ Which is a little bizarre... but actually kind of fun. _

* * *

Sam is still strategizing as he steps out of the shower. Wrapping one towel around his waist, he uses another to gently pat at wet hair before liberally pumping a lemon and thyme-scented leave-in conditioner spray through the now damp strands. As he brushes his teeth with his _ Pronamel Sensodyne® _ toothpaste--top row first (front, then back) then the bottom row (back, then front), before repeating the whole process, twice--Sam thinks about how he'd actually tried talking to Dean earlier that evening. He spoken about Eileen, as she'd been on his mind since he'd woken up at usual his 07.00 a.m. that morning, just before his alarm went off at 07.03 am. Also on his mind were Dean and Cas--but they _ always _ were these days. Then much later on in the evening--just before he'd left his brother in the garage this evening to deal with the _ other _ love of his life--Sam had spoken to Dean about regrets and about how there's still time for Dean himself to pull his head out of his ass and _ do _ something about his own romantic-life, or lack thereof.

_ About Cas, basically. _

Sam doubts Dean really listened though. And, now he thinks on it some more, doubts Dean even acknowledged Sam was talking about Cas.

_ I mean, I didn't actually say his name... _

His brother tends to go into shutdown mode whenever the subject of _ feelings _ are brought up--especially when those feelings are his own. And Sam does understand how Dean never really having anyone outside of Sam to _ show _ him they loved him, is the a huge portion of the reason why. Sure, there was Lisa. But, from the little Sam's is aware of, it wasn't exactly a healthy relationship (one built on impossible ideals and guilt for a dead brother) which ended much worse-than-badly for poor Dean. And him and Cassie? They were over before it had even begun.

Sam's got to do it. He's _ got _ to go speak to Dean again and confirm he was talking about Cas. He's _ got _ to be more transparent. More obvious.

_ Yeah. Yeah, yes, I will. I am. I'm gonna go do that… um, how exactly am I gonna go do that? _

Sam decides he needs to be done with transparency. Transparency isn't really… _ transparent _ enough for Dean. No, the only way to deal with this situation is to be blunt as a damn spoon. Usually, Sam tries to take the softly-softly approach with his brother. But that tends to give Dean a certain amount of wiggle room that Sam is _ not _ willing to afford him this evening. Or at all, period--not when it comes to Cas. Not anymore.

Sam weighs up in his mind how each scene could play out. Thinks of all the variables, all the possible ways Dean could react. He then mentally sorts them into categories of just how much of a nightmare this could prove to be, from Best to Worst case scenario.

They are all _ monumentally _ bad.

_ Shit. I'm just gonna have to come out and say it, balls to the wall, and deal with... however Dean deals. _

Sam decides, if he's really going to do this, he better get some practice in first and he decides out loud, in front of the mirror, is the only way. Like when he used to recite his speeches before giving a presentation at college--if Jess wasn't around to let him bore her with it (because she was the best).

Now back in his bedroom, Sam throws the towel across his the back of his chair. He pulls on some boxer briefs, clears his throat and runs fingers through mostly dried, now touchably-soft hair. Looking in the mirror he marvels for a moment at how long it's been--and everything that's happened to him--since he last did this.

He takes a breath.

"So, get this..."

_ I cannot start like that._

"Dean. Look, man. I--I'm just gonna say this and... it's maybe--_definitely--_gonna sound pretty damn left-field but... Dude, look, I know you're bisexual, okay? I mean, I've always known, I think. And I also know you're in love with Cas and that's okay, man. It's good. You're good. Cas is good. It's _ all _ good. Everything and _ anything _ is good, Dean. It's like, all happy days, okay?"

_I sound like a tongue-tied middle-school dweeb. _

Sam laughs at himself.

_ Probably 'cause I used to _ be _ a tongue-tied middle-school dweeb. _

** _And we can have forever_ ** ****  
** _  
_ ** **** **_And we can love forever_**

Such appropriately-timed lyrics now resonating in Sam's psyche have his brow raised and the corners of his mouth hitching like bait on a line in grateful relief.

_ Wow, thanks, Freddie. _

"It's like Freddie said. You guys can have forever. You just gotta… reach out and touch faith, Dean."

_ That's Depeche Mode, doofus. _

"... Dean, you just gotta realise that there's a sell-by date on forever."

_Oh my God. I got into Stanford, for chrissakes. _

Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and centring himself. Like the meditation podcasts he sometimes listens to teach him to do.

He tries again.

_ "Look_, Dean. I know you're bisexual. I also know you're in love with Cas. But you two ain't got forever--your forever has to be now. So you just gotta screw it all and go for it, man. Remember the Cuevas? They got their happy ending--and they'll have it for however long it lasts. And I think that's the point, Dean: however long or short the time is that you get, it's worth it. And believe me when I say the only thing stopping you from getting your own happy ending is _ you,_ Dean. It's so obvious Cas feels the way that I _ know _ you do too. So, you really don't have any excuses--other than, what? You thinking that you don't deserve to be happy? You thinking you don't deserve Cas? That's just self-doubt talking, man. And it's only an excuse if you let it be. Now, will you please pull on your big-boy pants and please, _ please,_ just go get him?"

Sam smirks at his reflection.

_ Not bad. _

Trouble is, now hearing the words playback in his head--although pretty proud of them--Sam's now quite sure that Dean couldn't actually take that much honesty in one go. Not without either:

  1. **** Inducing some sort of comatose state.

or 

  1. **** Blowing his top like a Yellowstone geyser.

It's always the extremes with Dean.

_ Shit. Maybe I knew this, at least subconsciously. Maybe it's why I've never tried saying something before. Dean's awful with words, no matter whose they are... _

But as Sam's enthusiasm dies, a notion is born and his mouth drops open.

_ Man, the Buddhists really know their stuff. _

His gaping mouth now ambles slowly up his face.

_Of course! Dean can use somebody else's words by making--yes, yeah, that'll--that's a stellar idea. Why have I never thought of this before?_ _But then--crap, I still gotta talk to him to tell him _how_ and… or else how will I…?_

Clarity then slices through Sam's mind and ensconces itself next to his initial clever thought as another, even sharper solution surfaces.

He grabs the notebook from beside his abandoned laptop, then sits back down at his desk and starts scribbling.

After a good ten minutes of posturing and scrubbing out and changing words around, he jumps up, hoisting a pair of baggy sweats up each leg and pulling on a soft, v-necked t-shirt before leaving his room. Making his way through the bunker towards room _no.11_, Sam doesn't mind silently admitting to the echo-y corridors that he's pretty damn pleased with himself.

**Chapter Two: Dean**

While trawling through IMDb on his laptop to figure out which episode of Game Of Thrones he’s up to (remembering something about that Jorah dude's skin and the only cool Lannister having a beard now), Dean really tries not to lose faith in catching up on matters in Westeros. But if he doesn't hit jackpot soon, it's going to be _Busty Asian Babes_, _Real'n'Raunchy Redheads_ or_Tall, Dark and Hung_ on the old porn streams. He's about to give up and load up some hot guys with pale blue eyes when an unexpected, alien sound has his eyes flicking upwards, fast as a quick-made buck. A hand instinctively shoots under his pillow, fingers wrapping themselves around the grip of his handgun and in one swift move, he has his M1911A1 cocked and aimed in the direction of possible threat.

Something has been slid through the gap between his bedroom door and the floor.

Slipping silently from his bed, Dean moves over towards the room's only exit, stealthily, on the balls of bare feet. He crouches down to listen through the wood panel for footsteps.

After hearing what he instantly knows to be Sam's crappy whistling of what sounds like, _ "It Must Be Love" _ by _ Madness--whattheactualfuck?--_getting quieter as the lunatic Sasquatch moves further away,Dean disarms his gun and yanks his door open.

"Dude, what the hell? Coulda just knocked--I nearly shot you! _Again_. And what in Sam Hill's dog's doo-dars is this anyways?" he asks, waving the paper and shouting after Sam's broad back which is disappearing around the end of the corridor. Dean gets no answer, other than a single _thumbs up_ which trails around the corner after his weirdo brother.

Shaking his head and going back inside of his room, Dean wonders about what possible reason Sam could have for passing notes under his door like they're girls on a freaking middle-school field trip.

_ Not that this loser ever got to actually go on any school trips. _

Dean shoves that pathetic thought down his gullet and plans to not think about it again.

_'S probably just case stuff._

Padding wearily back to his bed, he sits back down and opens what he now sees is two folded pieces of paper. There is cursive in blue ink written on both sides, and Dean confirms that _yes, it is _in fact signed by Sam. So, now even more baffled at what looks to be more of a letter than notes on the case, he gets down to reading his brother’s neat script with chewed cheeks and deeply furrowed brow.

* * *

_ **Dean,** _

Look, I get this might seem <strike>maybe a little</strike> completely out of the blue (even after what I said to you this evening in the garage) but I just gotta say something, man. I gotta cause it's gone on long enough and cause<strike> I can't you're because it's</strike> I love you, man.

I know, okay? About Cas, about how you <strike>are</strike> feel about him. I also know <strike>you're</strike> you like guys just as much as girls and always have--just like I've always known it. And it doesn't bother me, Dean, like at all. Not one bit—just in case you, I dunno, thought it might...? I can't imagine you'd actually think that of me, really, but I just wanna make it crystal clear. Cause look, I know Dad <strike>was</strike> didn't exactly take us to any Pride parades. And what with the lives we lead, some of the places, the people… I totally get how hard it must have been/is for you. But think about it, man. NOTHING about our lives is conventional. And why should it have to be? Fuck normal, right? Normal only really exists in a state of constant flux. It's something that means something different to everyone—or at least it should. The Cuevas are happy. And EVERYONE has the right to be happy, Dean--even you.

_Especially _you.

Anyways, I always thought I'd wait for you to talk to me about it but finally figured I'd be waiting till the cows come home. And so would Cas. And that'd be too damn late, Dean. Trust me, I know. So, anyways, I thought I'd write it down. Make it easier for you. And yeah, okay, easier for me too. But mainly you. You gotta tell him, man. And I actually thought of a great way to ease yourself into it... so, get this:

_MIXTAPE, DUDE!_

**P.T.O —>**

* * *

...and I don't mean_ "Fave Led Zepp Songs"_ or whatever, Dean. I mean the ultimate _"I Want You"_ playlist. Like, all the songs you pine along to when you're thinkin about him. All those songs you wish he could hear in your voice 'cause the lyrics explain the way you feel about him, you know? And I know you DO know exactly what I'm talkin about so just do us all a favor: quit sittin there all slack-jawed and just get on it, okay? And if you're worried about Cas not fully getting it, don't worry. Leave that part to me.

Okay. So. You <strike>need to</strike> wanna talk about any of this, you know where I am—anytime, seriously. You don't wanna talk about it—like ever—or have me mention it again? Fine. It's your call, Dean. Whatever is fine with me.

Shit, man, we should write letters, like, all the time. Saying stuff on paper is SO much easier, dude. And yeah, I coulda just text this to you--but come on, this is way cooler. I feel like Jonathan Harker or something! Letters are so underrated, you know?

Anyways, look, just remember you're my brother and I love you, man. Okay? Always. No matter what.

_ **Sam (aka Jedi Padawan).** _

P.S. touch my laptop again and I'll get Rowena to spell your ass into running into town with your pants 'round your ankles singing that Taylor Swift song you deny loving.

* * *

_ (very silent silence for what is probably a pretty long time) _

* * *

_ (a little more silent silence, fraught with sheer disbelief and then actual panic--like, not just Occasional Drama Queen Syndrome shit, but full-on sweats and nausea) _

* * *

Dean is still breathing because he can now clearly hear the forced and shakey sound of the _in through his nose and out through his mouth_.

_ Fuck. _

It's the only thing Dean can think of.

_ Fuck. _

It's like a really little mantra.

_ Fuck. _

_ Fuck. _

_ Fuck. _

_ Fuck. _

_ Fuck. _

_ Fuck. _

_ Fuck. _

...until it doesn't even sound like a real word anymore.

With his heart in his throat and his stomach somewhere down by his knees, Dean's eyes re-scan the two-sided note, his laboured-but-even breathing now starting to get away from him again.

_ Sam knows I like guys. _

_ Sam knows I like Cas. _

_ SAM KNOWS I'M IN LOVE WITH CAS._

Dean looks at the letter yet again, just to be sure he read what he read.

_Fuck_.

He closes his eyes, tries some more steadying breaths.

He always thought he'd hidden it pretty well.

_ Not well enough, loser. _

But Sam's words sound so blazé in the note...

_ He doesn't give a shit, like not at all. Why the hell didn't I just tell him?! And he... shit, he wants me to tell Cas. I mean hell, I want me to tell Cas but..._

Dean repeats the mantra, again. This time out loud.

"Fuck. Fuck… _ FUCK!" _

After a little more silence, there’s a strange humming sound coming from somewhere... Dean then realises it's coming from _ him._

He begins to choke out what sounds kind of like some sort of strangled chuckle.

Then he starts to really laugh.

Dean tries to stop himself, feeling weird sat there, alone, guffawing like a freak. He covers his mouth with a hand. But he can't curtail it. It just gets louder and louder, until he's belly-laughing and clutching at his ribs. Dean flops onto his back on lush memory foam and howls, tears now streaming down his face with years and years of pent-up emotions erupting out of him, like one of those water-fountain-thingies at Yosemite. He shakes with it, clutching at his aching abdomen. He really can't stop and now feels like he might actually die if he doesn’t manage to quit laughing.

_ Worse ways to go, Deano. _

He needs to stop so tries again to silence himself, aiming for those deep breaths again. Dean eventually manages jagged but slightly more normal inhales which bring him back to at least a semblance of _calm. _Heworries briefly that maybe he's just finally lost it this time

_ Jesus. Actually felt good though, real good. Can't remember the last time I laughed like that. Actually, I can. It was last spring..._

_With Cas._

Then as quickly as his laughter fit had come on, Dean sobers and is overcome with a shit-ton of both reverent awe and adoration--which hits him like a demon punch, deft and hard, as Sam's suggestion begins to sinks in.

He rubs at the tears in his eyes with the heels of his hands and wipes his probably red face with the shoulder of his old Zepp shirt. Has another attempt at normal breathing as he summarizes...

_ Sammy is hands-down the best damn brother in all the fucking multiverses. _

The mop-haired genius has made it so that Dean doesn’t need to _ think _ about this; doesn't even have to know what to _ say._

_ At least not yet anyways. That can come next._

Right now, Dean just needs to employ one of the very few skills he harbours...

Dean just needs to get _ mixtaping. _

**Chapter Three: Castiel**

Castiel sits alone in his room.

No, not alone. There’s the _daddy-longlegger _spider nestled in a corner, up by the ceiling.

_ And there’s Dean... if I pretend. _

Castiel takes out his phone from his trenchcoat and unlocks it with his password:

F R E C K L E S

He scrolls through the small gallery until he finds the picture he wants. His lips literally cannot stop their sudden upturn--a reaction Castiel still finds confusing and exhilarating. The photograph was taken after a case last spring in Tampa, Florida, where the early-evening sun was lighting up Dean's features in a truly sublime and glorious way.

_It was as if his face has been sculpted from pure Aztec gold... as if each one of those unique freckles were glinting in the icterine light, like meticulously placed flecks of gold leaf arranged just-so, to be presented to and blessed by the Quetzalcoatl priests; before the exquisite sacrifice was offered up to Tezcatlipoca, the people's God of Destiny and Good Fortune… _

Castiel remembered saying something at the time which he himself considered trite, yet had made Dean laugh until tears gathered at the corners of those sunlit-green eyes, a sight which Castiel--or likely anybody these days--rarely got the chance to witness. So, he'd quickly taken his phone from his pocket and captured the beautiful scene using the camera function, before Dean had the time to protest.

_I ache like Christ on the cross to have the privilege of inciting moments such as that as often as I possibly can..._

Getting back to his task, Castiel now places a cassette--an old one on loan from Dean (a part of _Cas' Musical Education..._) which is a collection called _"A Kind Of Magic"_\--into the borrowed _Walkman_ music player that was Dean's when growing up. He then puts on the headphones and presses the_ **PLAY**_**⏯ **button, readying himself to listen to the album as many times as it takes until morning time arrives (which will be roughly 12.04 times--considering the current time of evening, then taking into account the fact that most albums from this era tend to have a duration of around forty minutes, plus being aware of the average time both brothers will be awake).

As the tape hisses, pre-first song, Castiel plugs the charger into his phone as he waits. He does not want the battery running out halfway through the night, leaving him to sit there in the dark without the colossal beauty of Dean's smile to keep him company--not even for one short moment.

**Chapter four: Sam Loves It When A Plan Comes Together**

Sam is dressing in his running gear ready for the morning's 10k jog when he spots it. It's a page ripped out of a journalist style notepad just laying there beneath his bedroom door, innocent as a child.

_ Innocent as a child should be_.

Acknowledging that distressful thought--letting himself feel the old yet still painful twinge it brings and then allowing himself moving on--Sam walks over and picks up the paper, unfolding and reading it immediately.

* * *

_ **SAMMY,** _

**No.1**_ (AND MOST IMPORTANT) IT'S PADAWAN JEDI, MAN._ NOT JEDI_ PADAWAN. HEATHEN._

**No.2**_ I DO NOT LOVE_ THE_ SONG "SHAKE IT OFF". IT'S JUST FREAKISHLY CATCHY, ALRIGHT? AND I SOMETIMES LIKE_ CATCHY_ THINGS._

**No.3** _ NEVER HAVE I EVER--OR WILL I EVER--USE THE WORD "FAVE". IT'S "TOP TRAXX", DUDE._

**No.4** _ …ACTUALLY I'M NOT REALLY SURE WHAT TO PUT NOW. SO, YEAH, HOW ABOUT I <strike>DON'T</strike>_ <strike>_JUST_ </strike> _ <strike>TELL</strike> WRITE_ _ DOWN WHAT I *CAN'T* TELL_ _YOU_ _ INSTEAD, HUH?_

_ I *CAN'T* TELL YOU HOW <strike>EASY</strike>_ MUCH,_ MUCH LESS DIFFICULT YOU'VE MADE THIS, MAN. THANK YOU._

_OK. SO._

_I MADE THE MIX. JUST <strike>DON'T</strike> MAKE SURE CAS GETS WHAT IT MEANS, ALRIGHT? CAUSE IF THIS DON'T WORK, I'M BECOMIN A MONK, SAM, I SWEAR TO GOD. WELL, OBVIOUSLY NOT (ON EITHER COUNT) BUT YOU CATCH MY DRIFT._

_TURNS OUT LETTERS ARE PRETTY COOL--UNLIKE YOU... JONATHAN HARKER? REALLY SAM? YOU ARE SUCH A NERD. BUT OMFG DUDE, DO YOU REALIZE? WE ARE FINALLY ACTUAL MEN OF LETTERS! NOW THAT IS COOL._

_OH, AND ONE OTHER THING I *CAN'T* ALWAYS TELL YOU:_

_I LOVE YOU, MAN._

_ **DEAN, JEDI MASTER. OBVIOUSLY.** _

_PS you do that, and I'll tell Rowena about the time you included her in your _ _ M.I.L.F. _ _ list when we got drunk on Polish Tequila, capisce?_

* * *

Sam actually punches the air, _"Breakfast Club"_ end-scene style--and doesn't have one single shit to give.

_Fucking finally._

Although he understands Cas now has more than a thorough knowledge of pop culture--thanks to Metatron, The Ultimate Douche--he still feels taking Cas his spare laptop and data stick loaded up and ready with the movie adaptation of Nick Hornby's _ "High Fidelity" _ is the obvious next step. So he quickly goes about setting up the last part of his scheme with a spring in his step.

_John Cusack, my man, you have so got this._

As Sam leaves his room to go find Cas, practically jogging through the bunker, he wonders if the old walls and echo-y corridors have ever heard anything as unusual (or lovely) as a good man who went to war--and hell--attempting to woo a fallen angel with outdated hair-metal ballads. He then wonders which songs Dean has put on Cas' mixtape, finding himself desperately hoping _ "Who Wants To Live Forever" _ will be on there. Sam feels as though Freddie and the boys have been pretty damn _instrumental_ in this _gAy-Team_ plan coming together--in more ways than one. And if--_when-_-this all works out, Sam knows at least Dean will appreciate both of those terrible, terrible puns.

_ **Who Dares To Love Forever?** _

_If there is anyone in this world I'd put my faith in, it's my brother._

Sam grins the biggest grin he's grinned in a while at that thought--knowing Eileen would have been grinning from ear to beautiful ear too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I absolutely LOVED writing Sam (I was a Sam POVirgin before this) and I really hope my characterization was okay *gnawing at fist*. PLEASE let me know your thoughts with a comment (creative criticism always welcome). And, of course, kudos is always greatly appreciated.
> 
> The next instalment will be what you've (hopefully?) been waiting for... IDIOTS IN LOVE ACTUALLY USING THEIR WORDS (and probably their tongues). Coming soon to any device you can get your hands on.
> 
> *Edit: ON HIATUS... but I will definitely be finishing the story at some point soon.
> 
> All the love,
> 
> Lucy <3


End file.
